Tales from the N'yrthghar I: Frost & Warmth
by Bluetech
Summary: The first of a series of short stories occurring in a certain region of the owl world. Each will probably be a few chapters in length. Not much else to say besides this: stay tuned for future updates!
1. Origins

**Chapter 1: Origins**

At the northern border of the Hoolemere Sea lay the Ice Narrows, a slender strait linking the S'yrthghar and the N'yrthghar.

The masses of ice flanking the channel were riddled with rounded depressions. These indentations marked the entrances to the network of interconnected tunnels riddling the interior of the strait's walls.

During the War of the Ember, as well as in the distant age of Hoole, hagsfiends and sinister owls congregated there to engage in dark rituals and practice nachtmagen.

Its current denizens, however, were puffins, dumpy creatures with brightly colored bills who depended on the fish inhabiting the strait for survival.

A stark contrast existed between the kingdoms on either side – especially during the time of the Golden Rain. The Ice Narrows, therefore, was practically a gateway to another world.

The vast expanses of snow and ice comprising the mainland and the frigid, churning waters of the Everwinter Sea, locked in an eternal struggle for dominance, had reached an impasse. The sun was incapable of ending the stalemate, as it never crept high enough above the horizon to tip the balance.

Storm-wracked and hostile, the Northern Kingdoms had a plethora of treasures to offer regardless.

Ordinary owls took up residence there, not to mention unique groups such as gadfeathers, kraals, and the Glauxian Brothers and Sisters.

Despite the challenging conditions, eking out an existence that allowed one to not only survive, but thrive, was not a difficult task. The only prerequisites were a steadfast gizzard and a confident demeanor.

Stormfast Island was one of eight island territories in the N'yrthghar. Bordered by Kiel Bay to the north, the Tridents to the west, and the Ice Narrows to the south, its location in the Everwinter Sea was unfavorable.

The confluence of currents in the water below and weather patterns in the skies above meant it was lashed by chilling gales and battered by foul tempests on a regular basis.

Blizzards would spawn out of nowhere and come barreling in at any time of day or night, blanketing the island with impressive amounts of snow.

Owls could rely on their gizzards to sense impending shifts in the weather, which gave them a notable advantage.

Preparedness and a quick wit was also beneficial, lest one be pounced on by a typhoon when out in the open.

Trees, a luxury of the S'yrthghar, did not occur on the island for the very reasons described above. In their stead, the Northern Kingdom's residents lived in chambers, be they natural or artificial, carved out of the rock-hard substrate.

One such being was a Northern Saw-Whet Owl by the name of Kyla. The eldest of her kraal parents' first brood, she'd hatched alongside a brother and sister on the Hrath'ghar Glacier near the Bay of Fangs.

A bit of a dreamer and gifted with artistic ability, Kyla decided against becoming a kraal herself. Deeming it too brutish and risky, she favored more casual endeavors.

Her father, Aric, and her mother, Elise, were initially taken aback by her announcement. They soon experienced a change of heart and agreed to help their daughter realize her wishes.

Having raised such a clever, enthusiastic, and benevolent child, they were eager to see what path her desires would lead her down.

The night of Kyla's departure from her family's home, that warm, familiar place where she'd matured and fabricated countless memories, was a melancholy one, as it should be.

Mother, father, and daughter, locked in a heartfelt embrace, dampened each other's feathers with tears of sadness and joy. Her siblings, Theodore and Sofia, were overcome by sorrow and delight as well.

Following that emotional exchange, Kyla, having reached 10 moons of age, bid her family goodbye, promising she would visit them every couple moon cycles if possible. As the pastel hues of dawn spilled over the distant horizon, Kyla ventured out over the light-dappled Everwinter Sea.

She flew with two well-worn botkins, the one on her back – attached by means of a harness – packed full of various tools and supplies, and the other, gripped tightly in her talons, loaded with her most prized belongings.

Shunning the heavily-populated Dark Fowl Island as well as the inhospitable Ice Dagger, she drifted on by and continued westward.

The journey happened to be as necessary as it was symbolic; the sun rising behind her, it represented the beginning of the next chapter of her life. Hitching a ride on the playful morning tailwind, her trek was swift and almost effortless.

Obeying the silent coercion of her gizzard, Kyla chose to settle on Stormfast Island.

While cruising low over the island's western reaches, she chanced upon the perfect shelter.

Guarded by an overhang of ice-encrusted stone, its dimensions suited an owl of her stature quite well; it was neither too spacious and overwhelming nor too tiny and cramped.

Its west-facing entrance granted the interior an additional level of protection against intrusion by wind and snow.

The night had melted away and the urge to sleep began to seep into her hollow bones. She forced herself to remain awake long enough to construct a rudimentary bed.

After plugging the chamber mouth halfway with snow, she sank into the cozy bed composed of her parents' softest down feathers. She then tucked two owlipoppen into the empty space beside her – miniature versions of them she'd created as an owlet.

Rendered drowsy by the muffled howling of the wind outside, Kyla shut her gleaming eyes and slipped into a peaceful slumber at last.

In the days and weeks that followed, the plucky Saw-Whet Owl wasted no time in thinking of how to best unleash her creativity.

Yet again, her gizzard guided her like the Hoolestar guided lost and disoriented owlets.

In a realm dominated by ice of a crude variety, why not refine it into ice sculptures? It made logical sense and she needed no further persuasion.

Plentiful resources were all around and she swiftly devised ways to utilize them to achieve her goal.

First she discovered she could make molds by carefully shaping piles of earth and leaving them near the mouth of the den. The chilled air caused any moisture in the molds to freeze, bonding the soil particles together.

Though they became firm and durable, they were also brittle and susceptible to fracturing. Kyla learned to be more cognizant of her movements after damaging a few molds merely by bumping into them or knocking them over.

She started out with a few basic shapes, aware of the fact that she'd have to hone her skills before progressing to more advanced ones. Kyla avoided having to travel to the sea to gather water to be frozen by using her glass reading scope as a lens.

An object originally designed and wielded by an Other, her parents had bartered for it and used it to scrutinize small pieces of treasure they looted on raids.

She punched a small, slanted hole in the ceiling and wedged the lens into it. Its curved cross-section focused the low-hanging sun's meager light into a beam just intense enough to melt the mixture of snow and ice pieces she packed into her molds.

Granted she could only liquefy the contents of one mold at a time and the change of state was somewhat slow, but breathing on the mixture helped accelerate the conversion.

Once all five molds were filled nearly to the brim with crystal clear liquid water, she gingerly relocated them to the cave's mouth.

After catching a vole to quell her hunger she went to bed, optimistic that her trial run would be a success. When she inspected the molds the following night at moonrise, she realized it was successful indeed.

She brought the molds inside and gingerly extracted the cold chunks of material. Laying out the small set of metal tools she'd been given – including a dagger should she ever need to defend herself – she rigorously testing the ice.

Variables such as each tool's tip shape, tip-surface angle, force behind each blow, thickness of the ice, and more all affected how it behaved when struck.

Rather than wing it – if you'll pardon the pun – she took diligent notes, jotting down any important discoveries on a sheet of parchment with a feather she plucked and dipped in ink.

After reducing the ice blocks to haphazard mounds of jagged chips, she scooped them into molds, melted them, and refroze them to be tested again. Incorporating this routine into her usual activity schedule, she repeated the procedure on a nightly basis.

The learning process was both painstaking and taxing to Kyla's body and mind. Nonetheless, her skills gradually sharpened and her technique became more refined.

It required one whole moon cycle's worth of tedious trial and error, but Kyla eventually tamed the fickle medium. Whatever she could visualize with her mind's eye – albeit with some limitations in terms of complexity and scale – she could bring to life.

Her magnum opus was an immaculate sphere – its diameter equal to the width of her wing – polished to a mirror finish.

She'd created it by forming two identical hemispheres, coating the flat side of the lower half with a thin water film, and stacking the inverted upper half on top of its counterpart.

Managing to fabricate the desired product in a single attempt surprised her, but then again, it did not, for she had far surpassed the rank of neophyte.

The sole enhancement she implemented was the smoothing out of the faint seam where the two halves were joined.

The interior of the sky-blue sphere featured elegant swirls of teal, like cloth ribbons forever frozen in the middle of a mystic dance.

How and why they appeared Kyla lacked the answers to. An explanation of the swirls' origins was irrelevant, as she need not solve the mystery to cherish the immaculate orb.

Her reflection manifested on its surface whenever she approached, its proportions warped yet the ingenuity and individuality of its maker untouched.

In the days and weeks that followed, Kyla brought a menagerie of sculptures to life, but only as many as the chamber could accommodate.

She promptly began making her presence known to the owls of the region.

During – and sometimes in-between – hunting trips on Stormfast, she approached any neighbors she spotted flying about and asked if she could speak to them.

Fortunately, none rejected her outright and most were comfortable with inviting her into their homes.

She initiated the conversation by describing herself and her hobby. She then inquired if they would like to obtain an ice sculpture and showed them fairly accurate sketches she'd drawn.

If they were interested, she handed over a list of things she wanted or needed in exchange for a sculpture or two.

Roughly half of the owls Kyla conversed with possessed the items she coveted, a rate that pleased her. When the trade was complete, Kyla supplied them with a care sheet so that they could preserve the sculpture indefinitely.

The other half either didn't own any such items – in which case she presented them with a small figurine for free – or stated that her works of art were better off with owls that could properly maintain them.

Gadfeathers and kraals were her preferred customers. Their way of life revolved around excursions throughout the N'yrthghar, granting them access to all manner of baubles unknown to regular owls.

Kyla used the decorative items and trinkets she obtained to renovate her home, converting it from a drab pit in the ground to a colorful, merry space that reflected her personality.

Valuable items she gathered included a three-legged cradle for the orb, a sizable piece of fabric to seal off the opening of her dwelling, and a small bowl sporting a perforated lid in which fragrant plant matter could be stored or burned to aromatize the air.

Kyla might not have condoned the kraal lifestyle but found the plumage-dyeing tradition to be quite intriguing.

She mashed a handful of a special kind of berry into a pulp and spread the jelly over the tips of her wing and tail feathers. She waited a few minutes before wiping the sticky substance off, revealing the rich sapphire shade her feathers had acquired.

 _Perhaps my more natural appearance will gain me that much more favor with the inhabitants of this land…_

So it was that Kyla established herself as the premier artisan – not to mention merchant – of the Northern Kingdoms.

Wholly opposed to sacrificing privacy for popularity, she kept the exact whereabouts of her dwelling a secret.

Alternatively, she ventured to the Pirates' Lair on the glacier twice each moon to meet with potential trade partners and conduct trades themselves.

The kraals considered her a part of their crew, treating her to delicious food and satisfying drink every visit.

Kyla was living the dream, plain and simple; it goes without saying that she'd no doubt earned her reward.

Three moons since her emotional departure, she fell victim to a deep yearning to see her family again. As the milky eventide descended one night, Kyla spontaneously decided to return to her former home.

Packing a few necessities into her botkin, she slung it over her back, concealed the entryway of her residence, and decamped Stormfast.

Her gizzard tingled the entire duration of the trek, a physical manifestation of her eagerness to assure them she was fine and recount her recent triumphs.

Upon arrival, she landed as quietly as possible so as not to betray her presence. Her relatives had their backs to her and it seemed they were preparing to feast.

Kyla inhaled and uttered a single flute-like hoot. All four owls spun their heads 180 degrees.

A wave of recognition swept over their faces and their eyes glowed as bright as the moon.

"Sister… it's you…"

"Oh Kyla… we've missed you so much. Thank Glaux you're alright."

"I've missed you as well, and that is why I have come."

"Welcome home, dearest daughter…"


	2. An Unexpected Guest

**Chapter 2: An Unexpected Guest**

Kyla's long-awaited stay at her parents' abode was a heartfelt one.

She recounted all that had transpired since her departure, including her climb up the social ladder and numerous successes. Her creators tried in vain to restrain the flow of liquid pride from their eyes.

Their young, tiny, once-vulnerable daughter had exceeded their expectations and become something greater than they ever imagined.

Kyla and her family ate scrumptious, home-cooked meals together, engaged in merry conversation, visited kraal friends that lived nearby, and slept peacefully next to one another.

The memories accrued during her youth came flooding back whenever she slumbered. She felt like a treasured owlet once again, a sensation she would never forget.

On the fourteenth night, she elected to leave, citing a desire to inspect and reoccupy her home for defense purposes.

The female saw-whet gathered her things and, following a trio of tender goodbye embraces, left about an hour before dawn.

She flew in a leisurely fashion for most of the trip. The frosty morning air and majestic silence kept her spirits high.

Unfortunately, the peace did not last.

Around the time Stormfast crept up over the western horizon, a malevolent storm spawned to Kyla's rear. It exploded upwards into a pillar-like mass of foreboding gray clouds that towered over the minuscule owl.

The tempest gradually picked up speed, clearly intending to engulf and devour her. Its size fooled the saw-whet into thinking it was travelling slower than it actually was.

The low pressure and high winds churned the Everwinter Sea, transforming it into a treacherous gauntlet of whitecaps and heavy spray. She doubled her airspeed in a bid to outrun the fierce squall on her tail.

Managing to return to her dwelling a short while ahead of the storm, she dropped off her things and went on a brief hunting trip.

Hastily catching a well-fed mouse, she returned home, killed it humanely, and ate the warm rodent whole.

Snowflakes began to drift by the cave mouth, languidly and in small quantities. The intensity steadily ramped as the tempest drifted ever-closer and finally collided with Stormfast.

An all-out blizzard erupted, sandblasting the island with gale-force winds and blinding curtains of snow.

An errant gust barged into Kyla's sanctuary and sent her tumbling head-over-tail. She picked herself up in a huff and shook the snow from her plumage.

Just then, over the howl of the wind, she thought she heard an owl calling out in a series of mellow toots.

 _That sounds like another saw-whet owl!_

Cautiously she approached the opening, where snow was accumulating at a surprising rate, and uttered three alto toots of her own.

A second gust barreled into the enclosed space, flinging a soft mass directly at Kyla. It struck her square in the breast and knocked her down.

It then sailed through the air, collided with the cave's rear wall, and slid to the ground headfirst.

Kyla stood and dashed over to the upside-down being. It happened to be a male of her own kind.

His fluffed-up feathers caused him to look like a spherical ball instead of a typical owl.

"Good Glaux, are you alright?!"

"I believe so... if a little out of breath... and disoriented..."

She helped her unexpected guest to his feet. He proceeded to dust the snow from his feathers.

"Why in Glaux's name were you outside in such dreadful weather?" she asked, incredulous.

"I was on my way home... from the glacier... when the blizzard stormed in, if you'll pardon the pun. I live on the southernmost island... of the Tridents. As you can see, I didn't quite... reach my destination."

He paused to catch his breath before continuing.

"Even a great gray owl would struggle to fly in winds that strong, so I was no match for them. If I hadn't chosen to fly over Stormfast..."

His voice trailed off, for he was reluctant to contemplate such a terrible thought. Drawing his feathers in, he assumed the standard shape of a saw-whet.

"Goodness, where are my manners? You may call me Timothy."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Timothy. I am Kyla."

He gasped.

"Kyla, the number one artisan in the entire Northern Kingdoms?"

"That would be me," she replied proudly.

"I have heard countless positive things about you during my travels. How fortunate I am to have been brought here, even if it was against my will."

"Glaux works in mysterious ways, does he not?"

"Indeed he does."

The owls glanced at the cave entrance. It was almost completely sealed by a sizable mound of sharp crystals.

Timothy turned back to Kyla, who met his gaze.

"I doubt this blizzard will dissipate anytime soon. May I shelter here until conditions improve?"

"Of course not. You are the first visitor I've had since coming to Stormfast. I could use the company."

"Your hospitality is admirable. I am in your debt."

"Think nothing of it. This land may be terribly cold, but my heart is not."

"Poetic, I must say."

Kyla flashed a smile at her new acquaintance.

"Oh my, what a splendid work of art!"

Timothy jogged over to the sphere located to the right of Kyla's nest.

"May I touch it?"

"Yes, carefully."

Gingerly he rested his starboard foot on the azure orb, his talons barely contacting its smooth surface.

"I've never seen such a beautiful object before. Simply marvelous…"

"I appreciate the flattering compliments."

"I give credit where credit is due."

Timothy withdrew his foot, as the ice had chilled it to an uncomfortably low temperature.

"This space is usually cluttered with sculptures, but I've given away or traded all of my recent creations."

"Are they difficult to craft?"

"Yes and no. It all depends on what I want to create. The process is always tedious."

"I don't doubt it."

Kyla clambered into her nest and reclined on the luxurious pad of moss.

"I suppose I should get some rest as well. First Light has arrived, according to my gizzard."

Timothy planted himself a couple pytes away on her port side, his tail scraping the chamber's concave terminus.

"I noticed you've stained your plumage with a lovely shade of blue. I take it you are a kraal?"

"Not exactly."

"Oh, my apologies."

"No offense taken. Blue happens to be my favorite color. Also, I figured doing so would help me fit in amongst the locals. The kraals do not mind, even if I am not officially one myself."

"Ah, I see. Fair enough. I didn't find the kraal lifestyle tempting either. That is why I am training to become a Glauxian Brother."

"Really? That is a noble discipline to pursue."

"Thank you. I have learned much in the two moons I've been under their tutelage, yet my studies are far from over. The healing arts require extensive knowledge of plant species and their individual properties."

"I can imagine. I wish you the best in your endeavors."

"Likewise."

Snow had ceased to accumulate at the entrance, leaving a small oval aperture. Swirling eddies injected bitterly cold air into the chamber via the hole on a semi-regular basis.

This supplied the owls with fresh oxygen and purged the waste carbon dioxide they naturally generated.

Entranced by the low-pitched howling of the wind, the pair of saw-whets sank into unconsciousness. Despite the blizzar's ruthlessness, they slumbered peacefully from dawn till dusk.

Timothy awoke not long after the crescent moon commenced its arcing voyage across the night sky. Revitalized in mind and body, he peeked out of the hole in the snow drift.

Relief coursed through his being, as Stormfast had been freed from the blizzard's clutches.

He spotted a mouse scurrying around and pounced on it. He lifted a talon and delivered a calculated stab to the mouse's nape, dispatching it.

Kyla regained consciousness and half-stepped, half-stumbled from her nest.

"Ahh…" she said, spreading her wings wide in a glorious stretch. "Did you sleep well?"

He nodded.

"I trust you also slept well?"

"Very well, in fact."

Timothy hopped towards Kyla on one leg and cheerfully presented the limp rodent to her.

"This mouse must've tumbled inside while trying to escape the blizzard and realized escape was impossible."

He cleared his throat and added, "Consider it a token of my appreciation, plus compensation for my unannounced invasion of your residence."

The female churred; a strange, pleasant sensation pulsed through the male's gizzard.

"You are quite the entertaining guest. I expect no repayment, nor am I hungry. Go ahead and savor that mouse."

"Alright, if you insist," he answered, grinning.

He tossed the mouse into the air with a flick of his foot. It spun twice and dove into his beak headfirst. He swallowed it in three gulps.

"Not a bad catch."

"Don't tell my parents, as they were too fond of reminding me not to play with my food."

She churred again, much to the delight of her counterpart's gizzard.

"I know what you mean. My beak is sealed, I promise."

"That's one less matter to worry about."

Kyla went airborne, darting through the narrow tunnel in the drift. She alighted on the mound and, using her wings as spades, scooped out generous quantities of snow.

Each sweep of her wing spawned a sparkling puff of crystals.

She bent over and stuck her head into the enlarged passage.

"What are you waiting for? Join me," she beckoned.

He complied, gliding through the tube and landing beside her.

The black dome of the cloudless night sky, peppered with swarms of flickering stars, appeared infinite in its dimensions.

Silence of an absolute and eerie nature smothered the island, interrupted only by the hushed sounds of the owls' exhalations.

The female whispered, "What a majestic night this is…"

"In the wake of a chaotic blizzard, we bear witness to the splendor of the realm Glaux created for us…" the male commented softly.

Captivated by the surreal setting, neither being uttered another word for well over two minutes.

It was Timothy who finally came to his senses. He faced her and spoke in a reticent tone.

"I'm afraid I cannot stay any longer. I must catch up on my studies of herbal remedies."

"I understand. The flow of time waits for no owl."

"I couldn't have phrased it better myself."

Timothy inhaled deeply to compose himself and his thoughts.

"Shall we consider each other friends?"

"We shall," she responded genially.

Elated, his amber eyes glowed.

"Wonderful."

Timothy turned away and began jogging with wings unfurled in preparation for flight. A thought popped spontaneously into his brain immediately before liftoff.

He skidded to a halt, spun on a dime, and trotted back to Kyla.

"Oh, before I depart, I have one final request."

"And what would that be?"

"Would you mind gifting me an ice sculpture? Something small and simple?"

She quipped playfully, "As if I haven't been asked that same question dozens of times. Consider your request granted."

"You have my gratitude. Regardless of what you make, I will be thankful."

"In that case, I shall surprise you."

"Excellent."

"As it turns out, I have one final request too."

"Yes?" he said expectantly.

"Would you mind returning to my dwelling tomorrow?"

"As in, to collect my sculpture? You will have it finished by then?"

"Yes, but there is another reason, and that is because I find your company… delightful."

"To be honest, so do I. If no unforeseen obligations arise, I shall honor your request."

"As you said previously, excellent."

"I suppose this is goodbye, at least temporarily. May Glaux bless you."

"May Glaux bless you too, stranger," she teased.

He smirked.

"Hardly."

Timothy shot skyward like a rocket, zipping and wheeling about in an acrobatic display.

 _I don't condone boasting, but that owl has a great deal of flying expertise. He is certainly a strapping fellow. Did I just think that? Oh dear…_

Timothy executed a wide loop and made a beeline to the south; his small size meant he quickly faded from view.

Kyla sighed. The moisture in her breath condensed into a cloud on contact with the icy air.

She shaved off the top 1/3 of the drift in a matter of seconds.

All of a sudden, a familiar urge gripped her. She glided a short distance away to yarp up a pellet and pass her digestive wastes.

She then sailed home and floated to the hard stone floor. Pure moonlight flooded the cave with its silvery radiance.

 _I shall work on his sculpture later. In the meantime…_

Kyla grabbed the uppermost tome off the stack of books lent to her by her parents. The cover was worn but the embossed text stood out clearly.

The tome was named: _A Comprehensive Treatise of the Great Ga'Hoole Tree and the Guardians._

Underneath the title, also in embossed format, was the author's name: _Otulissa._

Kyla seated herself comfortably in her nest, discreetly flipping through the first few crisp pages with her talon.

Glancing over the extensive table of contents, she advanced to the foreword and read it.

Below the paragraph, two owls had signed their names in dignified, and distinctive, lettering: _Soren and Pellimore_.

 _Living the life of a Guardian must be so grand. I've never thought about becoming one_ _..._ _but perhaps I should try while I'm still relatively young. I would have to leave the Northern Kingdoms and be even further away from my family. Am I willing to make such a sacrifice? So many important questions to consider. In any case, I cannot be too hasty. I must contemplate the matter thoroughly in the moons ahead..._

Kyla navigated to the opening page of the first chapter. Purging the majority of the thoughts swirling around in her head boosted her concentration.

A lone thought concerning a particular male saw-whet owl lurked in the back of her mind. She paid it no attention, but made no effort to cast it out either.

Was it a remnant of their newly-forged friendship or an indication of something more profound?

None but Glaux, the wielder of divine knowledge, had the true answer.


	3. Solidarity

**Chapter 3: Solidarity**

A quarter moon had come and gone since Kyla encountered the amicable Timothy. After much deliberation, she decided that achieving Guardian status was not a goal she aspired to fulfill.

The Southern Kingdoms were no doubt overflowing with splendor; the quality of life there must be outstanding. For all its riches and allure, the lush, bountiful realm beyond the Ice Narrows was simply too foreign.

From the moment of her conception to the present day, she'd been surrounded by the glistening expanses of water, snow, and ice that defined the Northern Kingdoms. Their essences had infiltrated her spirit, suffusing the very root of her being, and become irreversibly bound to it.

She could never forsake the land she'd always known for one so warm, colorful, and bubbly.

 _The Southern Kingdoms are hardly my cup of tea, though I don't mean to discredit the Guardians' legendary home._

A permanent stay was out of the question, but she did not shun the prospect of a temporary sojourn.

Such an excursion would not occur for many moons, however. The plucky saw-whet owl reaped ample satisfaction in doing what she loved most: sculpting.

After reveling in a wonderful, seemingly endless dream Kyla stirred, bringing herself back to reality.

She yawned and used her third eyelid to wipe the blurriness from her vision. She then stretched her legs and wings in succession.

The circular shaft of moonlight beaming in through the hole in the ceiling illuminated the cave nicely.

Kyla inspected her feathers and found not a single unkempt patch. The accents on her wingtips and tail were a rich and vibrant sapphire hue; the color had faded over time so she'd re-stained them the previous night.

She strolled out of her burrow and surveyed the oh-so-familiar landscape of Stormfast.

The night sky was clear, save for scattered clouds drifting southward. The sea was as smooth as polished ice, the reflections of the glinting stars clearly visible on its surface. A torrent of mercurial light radiated from the full moon, which had recently initiated its voyage across the inky black dome.

Gilded by the orb's brilliant glow, the island appeared even more magical than usual.

Kyla breathed deep, flooding her lungs and air sacs with the frosty air. The influx of cold gases momentarily chilled her core.

She fluffed up her plumage to counteract the drop in her body temperature, turning into a veritable ball of feathers in the process.

"Ahh… what a wonderful sensation. No matter where my wings carry me, this will always be my true home…"

Kyla flopped onto her back and proceeded to hunt down the constellations floating high overhead. It took only a few minutes to locate and trace the shapes of every single star pattern.

Feeling accomplished, she stood and shook the powdery snow from her feathers. Kyla pondered how to best spend the remainder of the night and swiftly thought of a solution.

Scampering back inside her abode, she loaded up her botkin with a quill and a couple parchment sheets, sealed it, and strapped it on. She then dashed outside and immediately took flight.

After climbing to a decent altitude, she leveled out and flew on a heading of 75 degrees. There was no headwind to oppose her, yet there was no tailwind to give her a boost either.

Hunger pangs arose as she approached the fragmented calving region of the H'rathghar Glacier. She paid no mind to the churning of her empty gizzard, for her affliction would soon be cured.

She banked to the left, adjusting her course to a heading of 45 degrees.

Her destination manifested in the distance, a noticeable irregularity projecting from the glacier's uniform crust. As she continued northeast its features gradually came into focus: huge masses of rock erupting at an angle from the glacier, their snow-clad tips pointing directly at her. Nestled in the center of those crests was the maw of an impressive pit extending into the ice.

The nefarious-looking rock formation was none other than the Pirates' Lair, the stronghold of the kraals. They were a clan of mischievous owls that trekked all over the N'yrthghar in the hunt for loot, especially that left behind by the long-extinct Others.

As she approached the kraals' not-so-inviting retreat she executed a spiraling dive. The arched entryway rushed towards the tiny owl as if intending to devour her whole.

Kyla zoomed past the antique banners dangling from the rim, her turbulent wake setting them aflutter. She braked hard and plopped onto the firm earthen substrate.

Before her lay the Lair's heart, an impressive chamber that functioned as both a banquet hall and social space. Owls of all different species and colors populated the rocky cavity.

Those who weren't milling about were busy eating, drinking, chatting with clan mates, or testing their luck in games of chance.

As she headed for the dining table, the kraals showered Kyla with not only vocal greetings, but physical greetings as well. A female snowy owl with pink-tinged feathers willingly surrendered her spot and Kyla took a seat beside the massive stone slab.

The pirates issued a collective cheer of recognition, then shifted their focus back to their respective activities. A male boreal owl who'd stained his feathers light brown approached.

"Ah, the renowned kraal artist has arrived. Interested in something to eat and perhaps drink?"

"Two voles and some milkberry wine, please."

"Excellent choices. Would you like your voles cooked or raw?"

"Cooked, but not excessively so."

"Of course, my esteemed and attractive guest."

"Flivling with me, are you?"

"Flivling, no. Complimenting, yes. But, if I was a saw-whet owl, I would be."

He flashed her a wink and walked off to speak with the cooks. Kyla playfully rolled her eyes.

Her request was given top priority; the cooks worked expeditiously to prepare the meal's components. The boreal owl delivered them mere minutes later.

Her hunger peaked and she wasted no time in satiating it with ragged chunks of warm, nicely seasoned rodent flesh. The milkberry wine helped the meat slide down her throat.

Though intoxicating in sufficient qualities, the small amount she imbibed left her feeling composed and slightly fuzzy inside.

Once she'd had her fill, Kyla stepped down off her seat. Meandering towards the rear of the chamber, she spotted a male short-eared owl she didn't recognize.

Intent on striking up a conversation with the lone owl – whose ivory feathers sported crimson highlights – she fluttered over to him. Her sudden intrusion into his field of view grabbed his attention; he peered down at her with piercing yellow eyes.

"You must be Kyla, the Northern Kingdom's most famous saw-whet owl."

His speech featured an obvious Krakish accent, a clear indication of his ancestry.

"Indeed I am. What might your name be?"

"Call me Kristof."

"That name suits you well, fellow kraal."

"As does yours."

"Thank you."

Kristof cleared his throat and said, "There is something I am eager to discuss with you."

"Is that so? We should find a quieter place to speak."

The kraals ventured down one of many corridors leading deeper into the stronghold, the merry cacophony fading steadily. They hung a right at the first side path and stopped, picking up nothing but the sounds of their breathing.

"Ah, much better. Now then, what is it you wanted to discuss?"

"Your ice sculptures are mentioned and praised in grog trees all over the Northern Kingdoms. Would you be willing to create one for me?"

"Certainly. Perhaps we can arrange a trade."

"What is it you are currently seeking?"

"Decorative items for my home, preferably ones made of cloth."

"I am friends with a kraal who owns a stockpile of fabrics. I can easily gather what you desire."

"Excellent. Do you have a certain subject in mind?"

"A life-sized reproduction of my mother," he stated matter-of-factly.

"I wasn't expecting that. Such a sculpture won't be easy, but I am up for the challenge."

"I am an artist as well, but I express myself with quill and ink."

"I never would've guessed. I know of no other kraals who pursue artistic hobbies."

"Neither do I," he said with a chuckle. "I can provide you with a portrait of her I drew as a reference."

"That would be most helpful."

"Now that we've sorted things out, we should return to the main chamber."

"After you."

The artistic duo made their way back to the hideout's core and assimilated with the horde of boisterous owls. They spent a significant portion of the night mingling with their fellow kraals, catching up on the latest goings-on in the Northern Kingdom and listening to personal accounts of raids.

When the night grew old, Kyla and Krystof bid their companions farewell and traveled to the latter's abode. He lived in a fir grove nestled between the Bitter Sea and Hrath'ghar Glacier.

Once there, he produced a detailed, almost-lifelike sketch of a female short-eared owl.

"This is a drawing I made of my mother, Ilona."

As Kyla studied the figure, she commented, "You bear a fair amount of resemblance to her."

"Indeed. My sister, however, more closely resembles Elias, our father. It's odd, to put it mildly."

Kyla shrugged.

A female short-eared owl swooped in unexpectedly, almost bowling the tiny saw-whet over. Her plumage was modified with purple accents.

"Speak of the hagsfiend," Kristof said gleefully.

The two owls embraced one another.

"Good evening, brother."

"Greetings, sister. You chose the perfect time to visit."

"Why is that?" "Kyla, meet my elder sibling, Viktoria. Viktoria, meet Kyla."

"The Northern Kingdoms' most well-known artist? It is a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," she replied.

"There are several things I would like to ask you. We can talk over dinner."

Viktoria produced eight cooked mice from the botkin slung over her back, dumping them onto the floor.

"I won't have to hunt tonight, not that I mind doing so."

"Thank you for supplying us with food."

"I am more than happy to share. My brother's friend is my friend as well."

"A thoughtful kraal? Unheard of," he teased.

"The majority of us are, but I have heard, and seen, things that would do away with your appetite. I'd rather not discuss them."

"That is a sensible choice. I'm hungry, so let's eat!"

And eat they did, with an appropriate level of fervor.

Viktoria and Kyla dominated the conversation, speaking in between bites while Kristof listened. She posed many of the same inquiries he himself intended to ask, hinting at the similarity of their thought processes.

Kyla ate the smallest mouse but could handle no more, as her gut was preoccupied with digesting her earlier meal. The short-eared owls however, with their larger gut capacity, easily consumed the rest.

The aging of the night rendered the owls drowsy and Kyla expressed her desire to leave. Prior to departing, she measured key aspects of Kristof's body, jotting them down on a spare piece of parchment.

She and her trade partner then worked out the details of their subsequent meeting. The trio of kraals exchanged fond goodbyes and Kyla flew on home.

She was more than confident that she could recreate Ilona out of ice, despite the complexity of the project.

She fought off her fatigue long enough to fabricate a mold in the shape of a hollow rectangle. Its dimensions exceeded the measurements she recorded by a factor of about twenty percent.

The inflation factor represented surplus ice to be stripped off to assure the end product's dimensions were correct.

Kyla neatly packed snow into the mold and exhaled on it repeatedly, converting it to water. She then added more snow until the mold was filled to the brim with liquid, completing the first step in the process.

She plodded lethargically to her nest, whereupon she collapsed onto the mat of soft feathers. Her eyelids sealed shut in seconds and she dozed the day away like an owlet.

She awoke an hour past sunset, rejuvenated and clearheaded. She ventured outside to relieve herself and hunt, as she performed best on a full stomach.

She liberated the hunk of ice from its mold and immediately got down to business. Being an owl of short stature, it made sense to leave the ice block in a recumbent position.

Kyla's strategy was to divide the process into five distinct phases.

In phase one, she trimmed off the excess ice from the corners, converting the rectangular block into a perfect cylinder.

For phase two, she shaped the outlines of the facial disk and wings, formed the subtle division between the head and body, and laid out the basic shapes and positions of the legs, feet, tail, and eyes.

Phase three required the greatest investment of time and effort: Kyla granted the model a realistic cloak of feathers and finalized the appearances of all its anatomical constituents.

At this point she took a break, as the repetitive scraping and hammering had fatigued her. She read for nearly an hour, then resumed working on the sculpture.

In phase four, she scanned over it thoroughly from all angles, adding fine details in select spots and correcting any rough edges.

For the fifth and final phase, she rolled it closer to the entrance, stood it up, and polished its surface to a lustrous shine.

Kyla was impressed by the degree of craftsmanship exuded by her own creation, and she knew Kristof would be as well.

 _Great artists are usually those with humble beginnings,_ she mused to herself.

The chilled air wafting past the statue gradually lowered its temperature, hardening it and heightening its durability.

Afterwards she struck out for the Pirates' Lair, yarping up a pellet in flight. She'd fulfilled her end of the bargain; it was Kristof's turn to reciprocate.

On the way there her anticipation swelled, swamping out all other feelings. She couldn't wait to lay eyes on the decorative items he'd acquire for her.


	4. A Prosperous Future

**Chapter 4: A Prosperous Future**

Kyla's appearance invigorated Kristof, as it meant she'd completed the task assigned to her. They wasted no time in traveling to his dwelling.

As they entered, her eyes fell upon four stacks of neatly folded cloth objects.

"I obtained these from Sigurd, a great horned owl. He's a gruff old kraal, but he and I are on good terms."

"He has respectable taste in fabrics."

"He acquires his goods from trusted sources. He knows what is in demand and can tell with a glance if something is authentic or not."

"I'll take your word for it."

"I wanted to show you a wider variety, but this is all I could carry. I brought round tapestries, square tapestries, round cushions, and cloaks."

Kristof watched and waited patiently while Kyla browsed the commodities he'd provided. She scrutinized the coloration and patterning of the tapestries, comparing them and extracting her favorite.

She repeated the process for the remaining stacks; in under fifteen minutes she'd made her decisions.

Kristof swept his gaze across her selections and remarked, "From what I see, _you_ have respectable taste in fabrics too."

"Maybe that tendency comes naturally to females like me."

"Maybe so. I wouldn't know personally."

Kyla chortled.

"Obviously not."

"I believe we are ready to go through with our trade. I will carry them for you."

He folded up Kyla's chosen wares and piled them in his tubular botkin.

"Are you normally this hasty?" she inquired cutely.

"No. I am simply eager to behold your masterful work."

"That's reason enough for me."

"Lead the way, friend. I'll be right behind you."

"Three, two, one… off we go!"

The owls trekked southeast across the N'yrthghar to the abode of the former. Thankfully, the entrance wasn't clogged by a snow drift.

Kristoff's eyes glowed the moment he spotted Ilona's replica.

"It looks exactly like my mother! I couldn't have asked for a more perfect sculpture. She is going to be thrilled when she sees it."

"I aimed to balance realistic features with stylistic detail. It seems my strategy was a resounding success."

"Your reputation as the best artist in this frigid land is well-earned. I am humbled by your skill."

"Your praise is welcomed. I am gradually getting used to such positive comments."

"You deserve them. Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

Kristoff volunteered to help place the furnishings but Kyla politely declined.

"I'm going to try out different arrangements. I don't want my indecisiveness to keep you tied up. I appreciate the offer, but I will save you the trouble."

Kristof eased the sculpture into the botkin, which stretched just enough to accommodate it. Kyla supplied him with a piece of parchment bearing the care and maintenance guidelines.

"If you follow those tips _and_ don't knock it over, it will last for moons. If it ever needs touch-ups, let me know."

Kristof nodded.

"I wish I could stay, but I must return to the mainland, as some kraals are expecting me."

"I understand. I assume they are friends of yours?"

"Yes. We are going to spend the night at our usual gathering spot, the grog tree where we first met."

"I hope you enjoy yourself. Before you go, there is one favor I must ask of you."

"And that is?"

"Keep the whereabouts of my home a secret. The last thing I need is a horde of owls showing up and bombarding me with carving requests."

"My beak is sealed. It is the least I can do."

"Thank you, Kristof. Goodbye for now."

"Goodbye, Kyla."

The short-eared owl strode outside and sailed off into the night. Left to her own devices, the saw-whet owl focused on decorating her domicile.

She dragged the circular tapestry featuring a starburst design to the rear of the den. She placed her nest in its exact center and set the plump pillow to its left. Kyla moved back to the entrance, surveyed the burrow's interior, and deemed it satisfactory.

While contemplating the best location for the square tapestry, she felt a light tap on her starboard shoulder.

She spun around and locked eyes with a male saw-whet owl.

"Greetings, Timothy."

"Hello, Kyla. I didn't expect to find you here."

"Why is that?"

"I... expected you to be at the Pirates Lair."

"I don't go there as frequently as a typical kraal does."

"Oh. Well… it's nice to see you again."

"The feeling is mutual," Kyla replied, taking one step closer to him. "Tell me, what is the _actual_ reason you turned up so suddenly?"

"Would you… like me to teach you what I've learned so far as a Glauxian Brother in-training?"

"Hmm… I can't deny that knowledge of the healing arts might benefit me someday. Consider me your student."

"I'm glad you accepted my proposition. I'll do my best to make it worth your time. You are a busy owl, after all."

"Not very, but I do have obligations to deal with every now and then."

"Not to change the subject, but I don't remember seeing those colorful pieces of fabric the last time I was here."

"A short-eared owl kraal named Kristof gave them to me in exchange for a sculpture of his mother I created."

"Now your home feels less dreary, no offense of course."

"None taken."

Kyla experienced an a-ha moment and asked Timothy to step aside. He complied and she shifted the four-sided tapestry towards the entrance, aligning its center with the spot where he had stood.

"There we go, all done."

Kyla retreated to the other tapestry, picking up her turquoise cloak on the way. She plopped onto the plush pillow and gestured to Timothy with her wing.

He shuffled over and sat down in front of her. He removed the bag slung over his back, pulling out two worn books and some parchment sheets.

His body quivered and he puffed out his plumage.

"Here, you may wear this," she said, holding the cloak out to him.

He took it and hurriedly swathed himself in it.

"Ahh… much better. Thank you."

"Anything for a friend," she replied sincerely.

His eyes sparkled and he affected a warm smile.

"Whenever you're ready, so am I."

Timothy peeled open the book on the left and navigated to the first page.

"I'll start by listing the plants that grow in the Northern Kingdoms, where they occur naturally, and if they are helpful or harmful. If you have a question, feel free to interrupt me."

"As you wish, friend."

And so the introductory lecture began; the healer-to-be spoke and the artistic pirate listened.

Kyle felt a pleasant tingling sensation manifest in her gizzard. She realized that a brand-new chapter in the story of her existence had begun, one that Timothy was meant to play a part in.

Their relationship was currently in the budding phase, but in six to eight moons' time, she envisioned being committed to him in a serious, more romantic sense.

In the meantime, his delightful presence and mellow voice imbued her with contentment.

 _Ahh… I can sense uplifting energy in the air already. A prosperous future is indeed unfolding for the both of us…_ ire for her.


End file.
